


Taming of the Fox, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Everyone wants to settle down with a love/lust object--except spoilsport Fox Mulder.





	Taming of the Fox, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Taming of the Fox by m. butterfly

The Taming of the Fox  
by m. butterfly  
  
http://Skinner.Mulder.com/walfox  
Rating: NC-17 for m/m explicit sex, language  
Category: M/Sk AUish  
Spoilers: Too numerous to mention  
Archive: Anywhere--just leave my name on it  
Summary: Everyone wants to settle down with a love/lust object--except spoilsport Fox Mulder.  
Author's Notes: This is based on a certain play by Mr. Shakespeare, with one scene borrowed from the Elizabeth Taylor-Richard Burton movie of the same name. And I couldn't resist making references to some of his other work (sorry, Will). Please don't ask when or where this story occurs; it just *does*. All I know is that it's a bizarre XF universe where no one has died, everyone has all his/her body parts, and events happen at an accelerated, Bard-like pace. Many thanks to Michael for looking it over because...  
...this story is a silly little gift for my unparalleled beta-reader and cherished friend, Lucy Snowe, who's had more than her fair share of woe lately. In her honour, I've even thrown in a teensy, weensy bit of M/K (blink and you'll miss it). Anyway, I hope you like it, darling!  
Feedback appreciated (and always answered) at .  
Disclaimers: All but two characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. The two that aren't previously owned are completely fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction intended only for private enjoyment (specifically Lucy's) and the PTB should be fully aware I'm not making a dime from this.

* * *

The Taming of the Fox  
by m. butterfly

Act I, Scene I

"Quiet!"

Deep Throat's commanding voice filled the conference room, effectively silencing the unruly mob.

"Look," he told them, "I sympathize with each and every one of you. I have needs and desires too, you know." He glanced over at Cassandra Spender who, much to his chagrin, was standing next to the Brit with the nice fingernails. "But rules are rules."

"Rules are meant to be broken, Sir." Scully's tiny fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

He sighed. "Not *His* rules, Agent Scully."

"Can't you do *something*?" she wailed, stomping her child-sized feet in frustration.

"My authority is limited," he explained. "I'm merely a conduit between Him and all of you."

"Shit! Then we'll never get to have sex!" complained Krycek. He glared at Mulder, who flipped him the bird but said nothing. After all, what could he say?

"Oh, quit your grumbling, Krycek!" Spender had been spewing venom all morning. "At least you got to kiss someone. Someone besides your mother, I mean."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Jeffrey." Cassandra wished that the tramp who was ogling her son--what was her name? Diana something--would spontaneously combust. Now.

Frohike gazed longingly at Scully, then focused his sad, hound-dog eyes on the angry faces of his colleagues. "Isn't there anyone here who wants to be Mulder's significant other?"

Except for Frohike and Agent Pendrell, everyone swung their heads in Scully's direction.

"Oh, no!" she said, filled with horror. "He's my partner and my best friend, but I love him like a brother." She looked at him sympathetically. "No offence, Mulder, but there's no way in hell I'd ever get romantically involved with you."

"Thank God!" Frohike and Pendrell chimed in unison, then scowled murderously at each other.

Marita Covarrubias sniffed. "Well, someone here has to pair up with him! That's the only way that you-know-who will let the rest of us get any action."

"What an asshole," Langly muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Langly?" Deep Throat was no spring chicken, but he could hear a grain of feed drop at a hundred paces.

Langly dropped his head and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his ratty jeans. "Uh, nothing, dude. Chill, okay?"

The older man turned his back on the long-haired member of the Lone Gunmen. "What about you, Ms. Covarrubias? Your experiences with Mr. Krycek notwithstanding, you were once known to have an interest in Agent Mulder."

The icy blonde stood behind Krycek and wrapped her arms around him. "Well, it was a short-lived fascination, believe me. I admit I once tried to seduce the jerk, but you know what he did? He fell asleep! Who needs that kind of rejection?"

"Tell me about it!" piped up Kristen Kilar. "I *threw* myself at him, but when push came to shove, he wouldn't have sex with me either." Her anger died down when she caught sight of a bespectacled young man on the other side of the room. "*You* wouldn't turn me down, would you, Max?"

Max Fenig nervously adjusted his NICAP baseball cap. "Uh, no way, man--uh, I mean, *ma'am*."

Deep Throat addressed another dark-haired woman. "Ms. Fowley, is there any possibility--any possibility at all--of a reunion with Agent Mulder?"

Arms folded across his chest, Mulder regarded her anxiously.

But Diana Fowley sidled up to Spender, who looked about ready to burst. "Fox and I are old news." She licked Spender's cheek lasciviously, eliciting a watery moan. "I'd rather have fresh meat, like young Jeffrey here."

"Diana!" The Cigarette Smoking Man nearly dropped his pack of Morleys. "How could you? What about us?"

"Sorry, pops," she purred, stroking Spender's quivering thigh with her knee. "I got what I wanted out of you. Besides, you're old and ugly, and you smell bad. If and when I finally lose my celluloid cherry, it sure as hell isn't going to be to you."

Those who'd snickered stopped instantly when Spender's father fixed his cold, reptilian eyes on them. "I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you!" he cried as he stormed out in a puff of smoke.

Deep Throat was glad to see him and his insufferable cigarettes go. "Where's Inspector Green?" he asked, scanning the congested room.

Phoebe Green rose like a phoenix from the floor, where she'd been kneeling at X's feet, rubbing against his leg. "Yes?" she asked, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

"Ms. Green." Deep Throat had to ask, even though he knew what the answer would be. "You were Mulder's first love. Would you consider taking him back?"

"Shit!" Mulder shrank back, tried to hide in the corner. //Not *her*! Not again!//

Phoebe laughed at her cowering ex-lover. "Don't flatter yourself, darling. I found your naivete amusing at the time, but you were never a match for me. However, this beautiful man--" She ran her red talons up X's barrel chest. "--is. And I want him, so you'd better hurry up and find a mate, or I'm going to make your life a living hell."

"Like it isn't already," Mulder mumbled. But he was relieved nonetheless. X might be dangerous, but he was going to have his hands full with Phoebe. Mulder almost felt sorry for the guy.

//Another one bites the dust.// Deep Throat trained his intense gaze on Susanne Modeski. "Young lady, you once told these three gentlemen--" He indicated the Lone Gunmen. "--that Agent Mulder was your boyfriend. Care to make that fantasy a reality?"

Susanne took Byers' hand in hers and lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I love John. Agent Mulder is cute, but he never did a thing for me."

Jesus! Mulder was a bigger loser than Cancer Man. Eddie Van Blundht, too.

There were three single women Deep Throat hadn't spoken to yet. One was Cassandra Spender, someone he wanted to get to know better himself. He scratched her name off the mental list he'd made. He sought out and found one of the remaining two.

"Well, Ms. Skinner?" he asked when he caught her eye.

Sharon Skinner shook her head vehemently. "Uh-uh. For years all I heard was Fox Mulder this, and Fox Mulder that. I'm sick to death of FBI types. I want someone who's cultured, refined, and not so goddamned *noble* all the time." When she batted her eyelashes at the Well-Manicured Man, Deep Throat's heart soared.

But his elation evaporated as he realized that Melissa Scully was the last candidate.

"Miss Scully," he said in a conciliatory tone, "how about you?"

Melissa grabbed Langly's scrawny forearm. "No way, man! Ringo and I are, like, cosmically linked, you know? Anyway, if Dana thinks of Mulder as a brother, then he must be my brother too, which would be incest, and that's, like, sick!"

"Well, people," said Deep Throat, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, "I guess that's it, then. Back to a life of celibacy for us all."

No one in the room had had sex--nothing beyond a quick grope here or a few stolen kisses there--for years, and the natives were way beyond restless. They all spun around to shoot daggers at Mulder.

Fearing a lynching, the rebellious agent appealed to Deep Throat. "Why the fuck does this all have to hinge on *me*? Why do *I* have to get hitched before anyone else can? Why can't He just leave me to my pornography and junk food and let them have what--or who--they want?"

Deep Throat shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I can't answer your questions, Mr. Mulder. It's what He wants and, as you know, He always gets what He wants. Well, if there's nothing else, then, I guess this meeting is adj--"

"Just a minute."

Every head in the room whipped around as a tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows.

Deep Throat raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Mr. Skinner?"

Krycek slammed his fist down on the conference table. "What the hell's *he* doing here? He's the only one of us we know for sure who's done the wild thing since '93!"

"Yeah," Melissa sneared. "With a hooker, no less. Fuck off, chrome-dome, or we'll throw you out on your ass!"

But there was something about the look on Walter Skinner's handsome face that gave Deep Throat a sense of hope. "Quiet, people," he warned, and they settled. "I'd like to hear what the Assistant Director has to say."

Skinner had made his way through the mob to stand before Mulder. Focusing on the young man, he addressed Deep Throat. "I'd like to be Agent Mulder's--spouse."

Mulder would have backed up, but there was nowhere to go. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Sir? Is this some kind of sick joke?"

The AD's voice was as smooth and steady as glass. "No joke, Agent Mulder. Fox. I think we'd be--*good*--together."

The flabbergasted man didn't even hear the snickers and catcalls of his associates. "You're even crazier than I am!" He pushed his way past his boss and grabbed Deep Throat's arm. "Make him shut up and leave. Please!"

But Deep Throat had a dreamy look on his face. "It might work," he muttered. "It just might work."

Mulder dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together. "Please, Sir," he begged. "Don't make me do this. Not with *him*!"

"I thought you liked AD Skinner, Agent Mulder."

"I do, but only as a friend!" Mulder was getting frantic. "I'm not into guys. Not that there's anything wrong with that." He clutched Deep Throat's pant leg. "But if I were, I'd pick someone--" He glanced around the room. "--someone younger and better looking. With more hair. Like Krycek."

"Dream on, Mulder," the multiple agent laughed. "I knew that kiss on the cheek would fuck your mind up! God, you're so easy!"

Eyes blazing at Mulder, Marita linked her arm through Krycek's possessively.

"There's no one else, Mr. Mulder," Deep Throat told him.

"Doesn't He have a say in this? I'm sure He won't approve--"

Just then, Deep Throat's cell phone rang. "Hello?" As he listened, the worry lines on his forehead disappeared, and he cracked his first genuine smile of the day. "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir! Will do, Sir! Good-bye."

"Well?" But Mulder didn't expect the news to be good.

Deep Throat turned to Langly first. "He'd like a word with you. *Now*."

The Lone Gunman's face was paler than his hair. He patted Melissa's trembling arm and went to meet his maker.

Chuckling, Deep Throat walked over to Skinner and pumped his hand. "Congratulations, Walter. He's all yours."

"No!" Mulder roared. "No fucking way! I won't do it!"

Scully seized her partner by the shoulders and shook him. Hard. Then she slapped him. Harder. "Knock it off, Mulder! Stop being so goddamned selfish! Do you think I want to be celibate for the rest of my life? Do you think I want to keep meeting weirdos with talking tattoos? Do you think I want to start my own porn collection? You *have* to do this, Mulder! You have to!"

"But he's a guy, Scully! A bald guy!" Mulder had never felt so humiliated, so helpless.

"Yeah, but he's a *nice* bald guy." She ran an appreciative eye over Skinner's impressive physique. "I've heard that baldness means an excess of testosterone, so consider yourself lucky. Besides, he's a good kisser."

Mulder frowned. "How the hell would you know--?"

From out of nowhere, two MIBs appeared and sandwiched Mulder between them. "Hey! What the fuck's going on here?" He tried to break free, but the suits were built like WWF superstars. And twice as strong.

"These gentlemen will look after you until the nuptials, son," soothed Deep Throat. He turned to Skinner. "Would tomorrow be too soon?"

"The sooner the better," the AD told him steadily, drawing wild cheers and applause.

Mulder struggled between his keepers. "Now wait just one goddamned minute!"

But Deep Throat ignored him. "Agent Scully, would you please help the Assistant Director make the arrangements?"

"I'd love to," she sang out cheerfully. "The first thing to do is to call Mulder's family. His parents can give him away. I'll be the maid of honour, of course."

"Oh, God!" Mulder wanted to pinch to see if this was just a bad dream, but the MIBs had his arms in a vice-like grip.

"I'll see everybody back here at two tomorrow," said Deep Throat. "But remember--nobody has sex with anybody until after the double-ring ceremony!"

"Double-ring ceremony?" But Mulder's words were drowned in a sea of groans and curses.

"That's the rule," Deep Throat reminded the grumbling assembly. "Courting and flirting are fine, but absolutely no canoodling!" He gave a sign to Mulder's babysitters, and the agent was dragged, thrashing like a madman, from the room.

"I'll kill you, Skinner!" he yelled over his shoulder. "And if you think I'm ever going to have sex with you, you've got another thing coming!"

Scully approached her boss and looked up. Way up. "Come on, Sir. We've got a lot of work to do." She pivoted on her high heels and winked at Pendrell as she sashayed out the door.

With a deep sigh, Skinner followed her.

So did Pendrell and Frohike.

Act II, Scene I

The conference room had been refurnished and decorated to look like a wedding chapel. The guests, dressed to the nines, sat in folding chairs, happily plotting their own unions.

But the women found it difficult to keep their eyes off Skinner as he stood, ramrod straight, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The former Marine had been granted special permission to wear a Blue Dress uniform. (Of course, it wasn't the same one from his youth; he'd filled out a lot since then.) Even Melissa Scully was practically drooling.

What nobody knew was that, under the crisp blue tunic and pristine white cap, Skinner was a nervous wreck. He'd seen the hate in Mulder's eyes yesterday, and seriously wondered if he was strong enough to tame the wild agent. He'd also overheard some of the men speculating on how long this marriage would last, how long it would take Mulder to run off, shoot Skinner, or both. He started slightly when the best man's firm hand gripped his shoulder.

"We're all grateful, Walter," said Deep Throat. "I--oh, it must be time."

An immediate hush fell as a preternatural man with flowing silver hair emerged from a side door and took his place at the front. After nodding regally to Skinner, he snapped his fingers and organ music began to play...from *where* was anybody's guess.

The music was Scully's cue to enter the room. She was dressed in a cloud of pink taffeta and organza, which clashed rather loudly with her hair. But Frohike and Pendrell thought she'd never looked lovelier.

The wedding party and guests heard Mulder before they saw him. He was muscled into the makeshift chapel by his beefy escorts who, for obvious reasons, were acting as surrogate parents. Bill and Teena Mulder sat with Samantha between them, wincing as their son and brother was hauled down the aisle, cussing like a sailor.

Despite himself, Mulder took a minuscule respite from his ranting and raving when he saw Skinner. He'd always thought his boss was a fine-looking man--the agent prided himself on his objectivity--but the sight of the AD in uniform nearly took his breath away.

Meanwhile, Skinner's heart had begun to race the moment he laid eyes on Mulder.

The agent was resplendent in a virginal white tuxedo with tails, chosen by the impish Scully. The only colour to be found in the entire ensemble was a lapel rosebud that was almost the same shade of red as his face.

The MIBs plunked Mulder down beside Skinner, then split up to stand guard at the two exits.

Shaking off the unexpected surge of homoerotic desire, Mulder brazenly looked into the eyes of the Silver-Haired Man. "Please, Sir. Please don't do this to me. I'll kill myself if you do."

The man laughed softly. "Oh, Fox, don't be ridiculous. You *can't* die. If you could, you'd have been a goner ages ago. Now, be a good boy and behave yourself, or I'll make you wish you *could* buy the farm." He smiled at the maid of honour, who discreetly pulled a syringe out of her bouquet.

"Mulder," she whispered. "I've been authorized to sedate you if you don't shut up and calm down." She slipped the syringe back into its hiding place.

"Scully!" Mulder's legs felt rubbery. "I can't believe you're going along with this!"

She patted his arm. "It's for your own good."

"Yeah, right," he snorted, glancing back at the horny men and women in attendance. Even Langly was there, looking surprisingly presentable and respectful.

"Dearly beloved," intoned the Silver-Haired Man when the mysterious organ music stopped. "We are gathered together to witness the joining of these two people in holy matrimony. Since I know that no one here has any objection to this union, I'll just skip that part and cut to the chase."

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Scully began pointing her bouquet at him like some botanical weapon.

The Silver-Haired Man turned to Skinner. "Do you, Walter Sergei Skinner, take this man, Fox William Mulder, to be your lawfully wedded spouse?"

"I do," said Skinner solemnly.

"And do you, Fox William Mulder, take Walter Sergei Skinner to be *your* lawfully wedded spouse?"

Tearing his panic-stricken gaze away from Skinner, Mulder challenged the Silver-Haired Man. "I. Do. N-- Mmmmmph!!!"

Except for Bill and Teena Mulder, the guests hooted and whistled as Skinner blind-sided Mulder with a devastating kiss.

Mulder's first reaction was to fight, to pull his away from the mouth that was clamped over his. But once again, he began responding to the other man in a way that scared the shit out of him. Skinner was holding him tightly against his decorated chest, and Mulder was melting into the embrace. He was shocked at the softness of Skinner's lips and cheek, the gentle strength of his arms, the intoxicating sweetness of his breath.

When the older man finally broke the kiss, he stared at Mulder incredulously. Could there be something there? While Mulder was still dazed, Skinner took the gold band offered by Deep Throat and slipped it onto his new spouse's finger.

"I now pronounce you a married couple!" the Silver-Haired Man cried, bringing Mulder back to reality. He stared at his left hand in terror.

"Oh, shit!"

"I thought this was supposed to be a double-ring ceremony!" Krycek heckled from the second row. Marita elbowed him in the ribs.

But the Silver-Haired Man remained unperturbed. "It is."

With that, Skinner slapped one half of a pair of handcuffs onto Mulder's left wrist, the other half onto his own right one.

"You bastard!" Mulder screamed at Skinner. "You're going to be sorry you did that! I swear to God..."

"Should I jab him, Sir?" Scully asked as Mulder pulled and tugged at his unwanted bracelet.

"No thanks, Agent Scully. I don't think that'll be necessary. Do *you*, Fox?" For the first time since this nightmare began, Skinner spoke to Mulder in the deceptively serene AD voice he used on those occasions when the wayward agent screwed up big time.

Mulder gulped, drowning in a pair of unwavering brown eyes. "No, Sir."

"Wonderful!" said the Silver-Haired Man, waving a piece of parchment paper under their noses. "If you gentlemen and your witnesses would just sign this marriage certificate, we can start the reception."

After his signature, Mulder wrote, "Under protest."

But nobody cared.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Act II, Scene II

The Silver-Haired Man insisted the newlyweds receive congratulations out in the hall while the room was transformed from a chapel into a reception hall. Skinner was uncomfortable, but refused to let it show. Mulder, on the other hand, was ready to strangle half the guests for their sarcastic "good wishes." His parents and sister were the last in line, and the looks on their faces sapped the fight out of him.

Ignoring Skinner, Mulder's father shook his head at his only son. "Why couldn't you be like all the other sons and like girls? Even young Spender's normal, and look who *his* father is!"

Mulder wanted to cry. "But I *do* like girls, Dad! This wasn't my idea!"

Bill Mulder walked away without another word.

Samantha Mulder shook Skinner's left hand. "Be good to my big brother, okay?"

"I will."

She kissed Mulder's cheek and hugged him. "Good luck, Fox."

Finally it was Teena Mulder's turn. After scowling at Skinner, she looked at her son disdainfully. "Well, I guess it's up to your sister to give me grandchildren. Good-bye."

"Mom! Sam! Don't go! Don't leave me!"

But they were gone.

"This is all your fault," he snarled at Skinner. "I'm going to kill you, first chance I get."

Before Skinner could reply, they were ushered back into the room and over to the head table, with Deep Throat and Scully. The Silver-Haired Man was nowhere to be seen, but he'd left the MIBs behind to keep an eye on things for him.

Skinner uncuffed himself and attached Mulder's wrist to his chair. Scully cut his food up for him, as he had to eat one-handed. And she made sure to keep the knife well out of reach.

But Mulder refused to take a bite of his dinner. He felt like throwing up.

As the meal wore on, the guests became more and more inebriated. And it was the women who terrified Mulder the most. Every couple of minutes, they started tapping their forks against their wine glasses in an effort to get the groom and groom to kiss.

Skinner wanted to ask Mulder how that tradition got started. Mulder had the most fascinating mind of anyone he knew; it was just one of the things that Skinner adored about him.

When the two men began getting bombarded with dinner rolls and the occasional spoon, Skinner looked at Mulder with concern. "We'd better give them want they want. At least once."

"Fuck you." Mulder didn't care if he was torn to pieces.

But Skinner did. With steadfast resolve, he dragged Mulder to his feet and engaged him in a steamy lip-lock.

//I hate this,// Mulder told himself repeatedly as he struggled within Skinner's powerful grasp.

"You call that a kiss?" sneered Melissa.

"Slip him some tongue!" hooted Kristen.

Skinner finally released his furious spouse and they took their seats. But the women weren't satisfied, and began demanding that the honeymoon begin *immediately*.

"Shove your cock down his throat!" shouted Phoebe.

"Bend him over the table and fuck him 'til he screams!" demanded Diana.

"Take it off! Take it *all* off!" ordered Cassandra.

"Mother! Diana!" cried Jeffrey, still sober enough to comprehend what his mother and fiancee were saying.

"Yuck! Gross!" groaned the rest of the men.

Skinner put his mouth against Mulder's ear. "This could turn ugly," he told him. "Since you're not eating anyway, I think we should go."

"What, no first dance?" Mulder replied caustically. "Gee, honey, I'm crushed."

But Skinner had them linked back together and out the door in seconds.

The last thing Mulder heard as he was yanked from the room was a giggling Scully telling them to get the wedding night on video. The *whole* night.

Act III, Scene I

Mulder had hoped to make a break for it when they got to the car. After all, Skinner couldn't drive with a full-grown man handcuffed to him.

But the AD simply fastened Mulder to the seatbelt ring, cutting off any chance of escape.

"Where the hell are you taking me, Skinner?"

"To a nice, secluded cabin in the woods. I think you'll like it."

"Don't count on it."

Skinner tried his best to make small talk, but gave up after 10 minutes. They spent the rest of the trip in uneasy silence until Mulder, weak from lack of food and rest, fell asleep against the door.

The AD wasn't feeling too great himself. He was terrified that Mulder would never talk to him again. But he'd had no choice. His original plan was a long, slow seduction. Get the younger man to trust him, become his friend, then start subtly wooing him. But the others were too impatient. They'd forced his hand. And now he had to make the best of it.

Act IV, Scene I

It was late when they arrived at the cabin.

Mulder was still fast asleep, so Skinner left him shackled in the car while he unlocked the front door and turned on some lights. He then took their luggage to their room and turned down the queen-sized bed. He felt queasy. He'd waited years to get between the sheets with Mulder, but not like this. Not as his enemy.

Sighing, he marched back out to the car and quietly removed the cuffs from the sleeping man. God, he was so beautiful in the tux! So pale and lovely beneath the watery silver light of the full moon. Gently, Skinner picked him up and carried him into the cabin, closing the door softly with his foot. He then headed into their room and put Mulder on the bed as though he were a baby.

Mulder was still out of it, so Skinner gave into one of his favourite fantasies and undressed him. He started with the tie, then gingerly unfastened the buttons on both the vest and the pleated shirt. When that was done, he parted the layers of fabric and ran his eyes over Mulder's bare chest. Unlike his own, it was nearly hairless. Skinner thought it was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. He wanted to stroke every inch of it, to kiss the rosebud nipples, to swirl his tongue into the concave navel. Instead, he pulled Mulder up into a sitting position and slid the jacket, vest and shirt off his shoulders.

The younger man moaned and Skinner held his breath. But Mulder didn't wake.

Exhaling quietly, the AD removed Mulder's shoes and socks, then undid his trousers and eased them down Mulder's long, slim legs. Swimmer's legs. Runner's legs. Skinner imagined those legs up on his own shoulders, wrapped around his waist, and felt his stomach flip-flop. He briefly thought about taking off Mulder's bright white boxers, but decided against it.

The former Marine covered Mulder and left the room so he could lock up the cabin and put his cell phone and car keys in a wall safe in the living room. He'd taken every precaution.

Back in the bedroom, he placed his white cap on the top shelf of the closet and began to undress. He was unbuttoning his tunic when Mulder finally cracked an eyelid open, and Skinner didn't notice.

Mulder was understandably disoriented. But he quickly figured out what had happened and where he was. He wasn't too pleased that Skinner had put him to bed, but was grateful that his "groom" hadn't stripped him completely. And speaking of stripping...he watched surreptitiously as Skinner disrobed.

It wasn't as if Mulder hadn't seen Skinner's body before. But, for some unexplained reason, he was noticing it in a whole new way tonight. Jesus, it was turning him on. He just wanted to close his eyes and fantasize about Miss February, but he couldn't stop gawking at Skinner. At his massive shoulders. His firm pectorals. His washboard stomach. His shapely legs. The man was down to black boxer briefs that clung to his muscular ass and other curves that Mulder didn't even want to think about. Or did he?

Skinner put away his clothes neatly and stepped into the bathroom. Mulder could hear him relieve himself, then wash his hands and brush his teeth. He realized how full his own bladder was, and how foul his mouth tasted. He sat up, waiting for Skinner to finish getting ready for bed.

"You're awake!" Skinner was startled to find hazel eyes locked on him when he came out of the bathroom.

"I need to pee." He got out of bed. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra toothbrush, would you?" Skinner looked so much younger without his glasses, Mulder thought. Even better looking. Better looking than Krycek.

"Everything you need is in there," Skinner told him. //Except a way out.//

Mulder nodded. "Well, good-night."

Skinner cocked his head. "I'll still be awake when you're done. Unless you plan on being in there for a couple of hours."

"You mean-- "

The expression on Mulder's face was priceless. Skinner had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh. "There's only one bedroom, Fox."

"Fine." Mulder stuck his chin out. "I'll sleep on the couch. I'm used to it."

Skinner folded his arms across his broad chest. "You're sleeping in this bed, Fox. With me. I'll cuff you to the headboard if I have to."

Mulder thought he was going to faint. "I'll lock myself in the bathroom. Sleep in the tub."

Skinner smiled sadly. "There's no lock on the bathroom door." //But a *big* one on the window.// "Christ, are you that afraid of me?"

"I'm--I'm not afraid. I just don't want to sleep with you."

The older man climbed into bed. "I won't hurt you. I won't even touch you. Just get ready and come to bed, okay? I'm tired."

Mulder fled to the bathroom, leaned against the lockless door, and began tapping his left hand against the wooden surface. //Ohshitohshitohshitohshit!// An unfamiliar repetitive sound made him stop. He brought his hand up to his face and stared at the simple band of gold on his third finger. He twisted it off and, on a whim, checked for an inscription. And found one. "To F with love--W," it read in a delicate script.

Instead of flushing it down the toilet as originally planned, he put it back on, slid to the floor, and held his head in his hands.

Twenty minutes later, he emerged to find Skinner still awake, waiting for him. He started rummaging through the drawers of the closest bureau.

"What are you looking for, Fox?"

"A T-shirt." He wanted to say, "A gun." "I'm cold." He was lying.

And Skinner knew it. "Fine. But you won't need it. It's warm under the blankets." He peeled them back and patted the right side of the mattress invitingly.

Swallowing, Mulder pulled on a T-shirt anyway and crawled into bed. He immediately rolled to the edge and turned his back to Skinner. He tensed as he felt the other man shift toward him and place a huge hand on his shoulder.

"G'night, Fox." Skinner moved back to his side of the bed.

Mulder honestly didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

It took him forever to fall asleep.

Act IV, Scene II

Despite the events of the last two days, Mulder woke feeling remarkably good. Sunlight was streaming into the room from the window facing him, bathing the wood-panelled walls in a rich amber glow. He could hear birds singing but no traffic or sirens or any other sounds of civilization.

But what was that other noise? It was so close...

With a start, he realized it was Skinner breathing. In his ear.

Mulder peaked under the covers and saw Skinner's forearm draped across his stomach. His own hand was holding onto Skinner's wrist. And, as he became fully alert, he was all too aware of Skinner's body pressed up against his.

Yelping, he vaulted out of bed and bolted for the bathroom. When he pulled his penis out of his briefs to urinate, he was appalled to find it hard.

Of course, Skinner chose that very moment to burst into the room. "Fox, what happened? Are you okay?"

A herd of wild horses couldn't have forced Mulder to face Skinner and expose his shame. Looking over his shoulder, his face crimson, he bellowed, "First you're all over me, and now you won't leave me alone to take a piss. Get the fuck out of here!"

The AD practically jumped out of the bathroom, shutting the door on his way out. "I was all over you?" he called. "I'm sorry, Fox. Really."

"That's another thing," Mulder yelled back. "Stop calling me that."

"What?"

"Fox. My name's Mulder."

"Diana Fowley and Phoebe Green call you by your first name."

"That's different."

Skinner heard the toilet flush, the tap run. "But I'm you're--you're my--we're, you know, *hitched* now. Don't you think we should drop this last name business?"

The door banged open and Mulder emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. "No, I don't. Skinner."

Minutes later, while the AD showered, he planned his strategy. And hoped to hell it worked.

Act IV, Scene III

Skinner found the bedroom empty. But he wasn't worried. They were isolated up here, and with no cell phone or car at his disposal, Mulder wouldn't get very far if he bolted.

He dressed in faded jeans and a dark green cotton sweater, and headed for the kitchen to make breakfast.

In the living room, he found Mulder rifling through drawers. "Looking for something?"

Mulder straightened. He was also wearing jeans, topped by a grey Quantico sweatshirt. "Yeah, the car keys. Where the hell are they?"

Skinner walked away. "They're in a wall safe, along with my cell phone. Hungry?" he asked casually.

"Shit!" Mulder slammed the drawer he was searching. "No, I'm not hungry. Go fuck yourself, Skinner."

The AD stood in the doorway holding a carton of eggs. "I wish you'd call me Walter."

"If you want to make wishes, *Sir*, go find yourself a fairy." Mulder threw himself down into an overstuffed armchair and picked up a recent copy of National Geographic. He tried to read, but was distracted by the delicious aromas that began wafting in from the kitchen. He was starving--he'd eaten next to nothing over the last 48 hours--but he didn't want to give into his appetites. Any of them.

When Skinner called that the food was ready, Mulder buried his nose in the magazine. But the smell of bacon and cinnamon waffles and coffee was too much for his grumbling stomach to ignore. Taking his reading material with him, he joined Skinner at the table and wound up stuffing his face.

To his surprise, Skinner didn't attempt to make conversation. In fact, the older man avoided looking at him and seemed, well, morose. Part of Mulder hoped it meant that Skinner was giving up on this nonsense. Another part of him hoped it didn't. Mulder had never been so confused in his life.

When they finished eating, Skinner silently cleared the table. His jaw dropped when Mulder offered to clean up. Hoping that the plan wasn't to sneak up on him from behind and brain him with the cast-iron frying pan, Skinner settled down in the living room with a book.

Mulder joined him a short time later. "Can I watch TV?" he asked, almost timidly.

"Sure. I don't know if you noticed, but this place has a satellite dish, so knock yourself out."

Mulder spent half an hour channel surfing before finding the movie "Bladerunner." When it was over, Skinner put his book down, stood up, and stretched luxuriously. Mulder watched him out of the corner of his eye, annoyed at how his heartbeat had picked up.

"Ready for lunch?"

The morning had flown by, and Mulder was indeed hungry.

"Sure."

This time, Skinner brought the food into the living room so they could eat in front of the TV. Again, Mulder volunteered for clean-up duty. They'd barely spoken a word to each other all day.

By mid-afternoon, Mulder was just starting to doze when Skinner cleared his throat.

"I think I'll go for a run," he announced. "Wanna come?"

The idea of being left alone was very appealing to Mulder. It would give him time to try and hot-wire the car. But then he'd have to figure out a way to get The Club off the steering wheel and dismantle the alarm system. He had to give the big guy credit; he'd thought of everything.

Mulder hadn't run in days, and suddenly he was itching to be outside, feel the wind in his hair, breathe lungfuls of air that weren't tainted with exhaust fumes, get the blood flowing to his addled brain. He normally ran alone, but what the hell? Maybe he could ditch his keeper and make a dash for freedom.

"Okay," he told Skinner, following him into the bedroom to change. As he slipped into sweats, he kept stealing glances at the older man, watched him stripped down to his skin to put on a pair of black short shorts and a white cropped T-shirt. God, the man had a great body! Watching him bend over to lace up his shoes was almost a religious experience, and Mulder wondered at which point he'd lost his mind.

Act V, Scene I

He was still questioning his sanity when they emerged from the cabin. It was a glorious spring day--a tad cool with a light breeze. Perfect for running. To warm up, they walked for about half a mile before breaking into a jog.

"Do what you like, Fox, but I'd recommend staying on the road," Skinner advised. "The woods are pretty thick up here, and it wouldn't take much to get hopelessly lost."

"Lead on, Macduff."

There was no traffic--no other signs of human life at all--which meant there was plenty of room for them to run two abreast. But Mulder purposely kept falling back. Christ, what a sight! He was fascinated by the way Skinner's calves and hamstrings worked as his long legs ate up the dirt road, the way his buttocks flexed with every stride, the way his back and shoulder muscles rippled under straining cotton, the way the exposed skin between the top of his shorts and the hem of his shirt glistened with sweat.

As Skinner reached the top of a long and fairly steep hill, he realized he couldn't hear Mulder puffing behind him. He turned around and caught the younger man, who was about half-way up the incline, totally off guard. And, although he wasn't wearing his glasses, Skinner could have sworn that his reluctant mate was looking at him with something other than fear and loathing.

Mulder had been focusing on the two bobbing globes ahead of him, trying to peek up the shorts as the road got steeper, when the view changed to a different but equally agreeable set of curves. And just above the line of black fabric was a bare midriff intersected with a line of dark, wet hair that stopped and restarted at a navel that was collecting moisture. Mulder's eyes travelled up the heaving chest and rested on the nipples that the thin, damp shirt was doing such a poor job of concealing. Finally, he locked onto Skinner's face, at which point both men realized that Mulder was either happy to see the AD or had been running with his gun in his pocket.

His cheeks burning, the guilty agent picked up the pace and flew past Skinner.

"Fox! Wait!"

But all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, the jack-hammering of his heart. And he was a little preoccupied right now. He'd never run with a hard-on before, and his discomfort was growing exponentially. He cried out when an iron hand grabbed his upper arm and nearly yanked him off his feet.

"Let go of me, you son of a bitch!"

"I want to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you!"

Skinner cupped his hand gently over the bulge in Mulder's sweat pants. "I think you do."

Mulder pushed the hand away angrily, tore himself free from Skinner's hold. "Don't flatter yourself, Skinner. That wasn't for you. I was daydreaming about women. Women with big breasts and long legs and lots of hair."

"I see." He arched an eyebrow, adjusted his baseball cap, and resumed running.

"I was!" Mulder called after him. "Asshole!"

He could have been referring to himself. He probably was.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Act V, Scene II

Both men were dripping when they got back to the cabin.

Skinner headed straight for the kitchen and grabbed two large bottles of water from the fridge. He handed one to Mulder, who refused to look at him while they drank.

When they finished, Skinner rubbed the sweat out of his eyes. "Shower?"

Mulder studied his shoes. "You first. I'm gonna stretch some more."

"Suit yourself."

Ten minutes later, Skinner walked out onto the porch wearing a very small towel. "The bathroom's all yours."

"Thanks." Mulder took his leg down from the railing and went inside, trying to ignore the mostly naked man standing beside him.

Act VI, Scene I

Just as Mulder was about to enter the bathroom, Skinner touched his arm. "Wait." He had a determined look on his face that sent shivers down Mulder's spine.

"What?"

Skinner handed him a small box. "Here."

Mulder took it from him. "What's this? Oh, my God...No fucking way."

"Do it, Fox, or I'll do it for you."

"You prick!" His eyes welled up, which made him even angrier, if that was possible. "I fucking hate you!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Mulder stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He sat down hard on the toilet seat, the offensive package shaking in his hand. Hell, he'd never given himself an enema before. He hoped it took him all day.

Act VI, Scene II

Wearing a towel, he approached Skinner with one unspeakable thought running through his mind: "He's going to rape me."

His nemesis was dressed in a pair of well-worn, impossibly low-slung sweat pants and a black muscle shirt, which made Mulder feel all the more vulnerable. But he wasn't going down without a fight. He lashed out with his right fist, aiming for Skinner's temple. But the AD was prepared and caught the hand before it made contact with his skull. He had Mulder in a headlock in seconds.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Fox. Just relax and you'll be fine."

"You bastard! You fucking bastard!" Unbidden tears rolled down his cheeks. But he quit squirming, knowing that he was no match for his boss physically. It was time to grit his teeth and get the inevitable over with. In truth, he was amazed that Skinner had waited this long to claim his prize.

With his free hand, Skinner loosened Mulder's towel, let it fall to the floor. Carefully, he released his prisoner and allowed him to straighten to his full height. His breath hitched when he saw the miserable, tear-streaked face. "Fox-- "

Mulder closed his eyes and shuddered violently as Skinner caged his face in his hands. But the older man only kissed the damp eyelids, cheeks, nose and firm-set mouth, then pulled him in for a fierce hug.

"I won't hurt you. I promise!"

Standing stiffly in Skinner's arms, Mulder barked out an ugly laugh. "Right. Just do it, okay?"

Skinner led the naked man over to the mirrored dresser. "Spread your legs and bend over. Lean on your forearms," he told him.

//Oh, Christ, this is it. I just hope it doesn't hurt too much.// But Mulder had seen Skinner nude in the locker room at the Hoover and knew how big his cock was when it was flaccid. Jesus.

But Mulder did as he was told and squeezed his eyes shut, resting his cheek on the dresser so he wouldn't have to see himself in the mirror.

He expected to hear the sounds of Skinner undressing, but the room remained silent except for the rasping of his own breath. Then he felt something on his back--something warm and gentle and incredibly light. Skinner's fingers. The played a sonata down Mulder's vertabrae, turning his skin to goose flesh. Skinner's lips performed the first encore.

Then Mulder felt hands on his ass, caressing and kneading. He was almost enjoying the sensation until a finger slipped into the cleft between his cheeks. It didn't poke or prod; it just scooted up to the base of his spine and back, stroking the fine hair that grew there. He was now profoundly embarrassed as well as petrified.

Mulder shrieked as his cheeks were gingerly parted and his anus feather-touched by that exploring finger. His entire body tensed as he waited for it to violate him. Instead, it kept teasing the angry little hole, gliding over it, tickling it, massaging it.

When the finger was removed, Mulder clenched his jaw at the thought of what would be replacing it. But when it touched him, he couldn't understand why it felt so small. And so *wet*.

//Oh, sweet Jesus!//

It wasn't Skinner's cock. It was his tongue. Mulder's knees almost buckled. No one had ever done that to him before. At first he tried to tell himself it was disgusting. But he knew better. It was wonderful.

He opened his eyes to see Skinner on his knees behind him, but couldn't see the AD's face because it was pressed between Mulder's ass cheeks. He moaned.

The velvety tongue swept from Mulder's anus to his perineum, over and over, leaving a trail of warm saliva that never got a chance to cool. Unable to stop himself, Mulder opened his legs wider and pushed into Skinner's face, silently begging the creative tongue to find and attend to each and every electric nerve ending.

Encouraged by Mulder's writhing, Skinner thrust himself into the tight puckered opening, swirling his tongue and extending it, in vain, toward the prostate. Meanwhile, his big hands were busy with Mulder's cock and balls, fondling them as he licked and sucked at Mulder's asshole.

"No!" Mulder cried when Skinner finally withdrew his tongue to catch his breath.

"Do you want to come, Fox?" he panted.

"Yes! Yes, damn you!"

Holding Mulder by the hips, Skinner spun him around and took the jutting cock in his mouth. Mulder gasped, then gasped again when Skinner began rolling his balls between his fingers.

Mulder was on another planet by this time, and came with a scream that could have been heard there. He continued to moan as Skinner drank him down. Slumped against the dresser bonelessly, he looked down at Skinner suckling him and still couldn't believe what had just happened, or how much he'd liked it. But he knew he wasn't going to like the next part.

Skinner released the softening cock and got to his feet with a small groan, his knees quietly popping in the process. He touched Mulder's flushed cheek and led him to the bed, then walked away, shutting himself in the bathroom.

Mulder lay down on his side and waited. And waited. And waited.

He was nearly asleep when Skinner appeared before him, still dressed and with more colour in his face than usual. He smoothed Mulder's hair.

"You can get dressed now, Fox. Or take a nap. Whatever you like. I'm going to get dinner started."

Puzzled, Mulder sat up and stared at him groggily. "But I thought-- "

Skinner touched the full lips with two fingers. "Sssh. I told you I'd never hurt you." Then he left the room.

Act VI, Scene III

Mulder tried but just couldn't sleep. Not after that. He eventually got dressed and wandered into the kitchen, where Skinner was making a salad. He was barefoot and looked undeniably sexy.

"Why?"

Skinner looked up from the tomato he was slicing. "Why what?"

"You know damn well what!"

He put down the knife. "Because I love you."

Mulder banged his fist on the counter. "Bullshit! You barely know me!"

"I know you, Fox. And I've loved you since the day we met. At first I couldn't do anything about it because I was married. After that ended, I thought I might have a chance one day..."

Mulder puffed up his chest. "Forget it! I'm not into guys, and I'm not into you."

"Sure didn't look that way in the bedroom."

He sputtered, felt the heat creeping into his cheeks. "If you know me as well as you think, then you know what a vivid imagination I have. I just kept my eyes closed and pretended it was a woman doing that stuff to me."

"Oh? And when was the last time a woman *rimmed* you?"

Mulder was getting flustered. "Okay, maybe not *that* part, but you might as well have been Phoebe or Diana sucking me off."

Skinner was in Mulder's face in a flash, backing him up against the counter as he fumbled with the younger man's jeans. "A woman, huh?" he growled. "I'll show you who's a woman!" Covering Mulder's mouth with his own, he tugged the jeans down, then shucked off his own sweatpants. As his tongue fought its way between Mulder's teeth, Skinner pressed himself into Mulder's body. Thickening cock met thickening cock.

The next thing Mulder knew, he was on the floor, lying on his back, with Skinner's knees straddling him and his upside-down crotch in Mulder's face. He turned his head to the side to avoid direct contact with Skinner's burgeoning erection.

But he wasn't trying to force himself on Mulder. He was too busy sucking Mulder's cock.

With Skinner's huge hard-on lying against his cheek, Mulder came for the second time that day.

The AD stood up and helped Mulder to his feet before putting his sweats back on. He walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, then turned to the woozy younger man. "Don't try to tell me you could pretend it was a woman *that* time."

His legs about as stable as ectoplasmic goo, Mulder did his jeans up and leaned against the counter. "What- -what the hell are you getting out of all of this?"

Skinner wiped his glasses on a dish towel. "Hasn't anyone ever given you pleasure without wanting something in return?"

Mulder didn't answer, just stood there staring in disbelief. Was this guy for real?

Finally, Skinner opened the fridge and took out a couple of cans of Coors. "Here." He tossed one to Mulder, who surprised himself by catching it. "Go relax while I barbecue the steaks."

Mulder retreated to the living room and stared at the blank TV screen while he drained his beer.

Act VI, Scene IV

He fell asleep in front of the TV after dinner, and seriously thought about spending the rest of the night on the couch. But he needed to pee and brush his teeth. Besides, the bed was more comfortable.

Skinner was already asleep, lying on his side at the very edge of the mattress, breathing deeply and quietly.

Mulder stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt, got into bed, and turned off the light. But he knew sleep wasn't going to come easy.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, playing the events of the last few days over and over in his mind. Today had been particularly strange. Instead of assaulting him, Skinner had brought him to a mind-blowing climax twice, asking nothing in return. If he lived to be 100, which he now feared he would, he would never understand Walter Skinner.

Mulder rolled over and looked at Skinner's wide back. Lifting the covers, he was inexplicably disappointed that his bedmate was dressed the same way he was. God, did he really want to see him naked again?

Mulder bit back a moan and turned away. The swelling between his legs intensified as he thought about Skinner rimming him, going down on him. He'd never been with anyone that talented, with anyone who wanted only to bring him off.

His last thoughts before he drifted into unconsciousness were of Skinner holding him, kissing him, loving him...

Act VI, Scene V

His cock was still throbbing pleasantly the next morning. With an effort, he opened his eyes and turned his head toward Skinner's side of the bed. His pillow was empty.

Then something squeezed his balls and he cried out, becoming fully alert. He threw off the blankets and, yes, Skinner was down there, sucking and fondling him.

But he stopped when the cool air hit him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. It's early. Go back to sleep." He covered Mulder back up and hopped out of bed.

"Hey!" Mulder sat up and ran his hand through his hair. "Where are you going?"

"Shower."

Mulder's eyes were glued to the six-man tent that had been erected in Skinner's shorts. "You--you can't just leave me like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like this! Christ, I'm so hard it hurts!"

Skinner kept talking as he walked rather awkwardly into the bathroom. "So? Finish yourself off. You can pretend your hand is Phoebe or Diana."

Mulder threw a pillow at him, but it hit the closing door with a dull thud and slid to the floor.

"Shit!"

Taking the other man's advice, he wrapped his hand around his cock and started to pump it. But he might as well have stuck it in a freezer or a meat grinder for all the good that did. Frustrated to tears, he curled up into a ball and listened while Skinner urinated, brushed his teeth, and turned on the shower.

The sound of running water was a siren call to his bladder. As he stepped out of bed, he noticed his boxers lying on the floor. Amazing how Skinner had peeled them off him with waking him.

Mulder charged into the bathroom and relieved himself noisily.

"Feeling better?" Skinner asked from the shower.

"No, actually, I'm not."

The frosted door opened slightly and a bald head appeared. "Do you want me to finish what I started?"

Mulder, sorely tempted to flush, glowered at him.

"Because I will," Skinner continued, "but you have to do something for *me* this time."

Mulder's eyes widened.

Skinner sighed. "Relax, Fox. I just want a kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Yeah. I want you to kiss me. Like you mean it."

"What, now? With morning breath?"

"Yeah, now. And if you feel self-conscious, brush your teeth. It's up to you." With that, he closed the door and ducked back under the water.

Mulder hadn't been hard when he came in here. But he sure was now. Goddamnit! He'd gone for years without another person touching him. Why did he want to be touched so badly now? And by Walter Skinner, of all people? Oh, hell. He knew why.

As quickly as he could, he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush and cleaned his mouth.

"You coming or not?"

"Huh? Oh." He spit and rinsed, then climbed into the shower.

He wasn't prepared for the sight of a wet, naked Walter Skinner. Water streamed in tiny rivulets down his magnificent body, dripped from his nipples, formed ephemeral diamonds in his curly chest and pubic hair. And his semi-erect cock was as sleek and shiny as a seal.

"Well?"

It took Mulder a second to realize that Skinner wasn't asking him for an appraisal, but to either shit or get off the pot.

"So you want just one kiss?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

Skinner squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then grabbed Mulder's left hand and slid the plain gold band from his finger.

"Hey! What're you doing?"

He put the ring in the soap dish. "This was a bad idea from the beginning. I'm sorry. Get dressed and I'll take you home. I never should have--"

Mulder threw his arms around Skinner, pressed their bodies together, and kissed him.

"Huh?" Skinner looked as though he'd been poked with a cattle prod.

"What I was *going* to say was that I couldn't stop at only one kiss, you big dummy." Mulder touched his lips to Skinner's, teasing them open with his tongue.

With a whimper, Skinner kissed him back. At the same time, his hands were everywhere: in Mulder's hair, on his back and shoulders, up and down his sides, caressing his face, kneading his ass.

Just when Mulder thought he would swoon from lack of oxygen, the greedy mouth pulled away from his and began feeding at his throat. He threw his head back and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Please, Walter, please."

Skinner knew only two things: that Mulder was harder than hell, and that he was enjoying himself immensely. He dropped his head to Mulder's slick nipples and sucked hungrily, drinking the water that was running off them. He lingered for as long as he could stand it before sinking to his knees and taking the swollen cock into his mouth.

Mulder thought he was going to die. He couldn't remember anything ever feeling this good. He held onto Skinner's head for balance as the AD massaged his balls while practically swallowing him whole. He came with a howl that would have done an alpha male Sasquatch proud, then all but collapsed on top of the kneeling man.

Skinner managed to get to his feet, and held Mulder until he stopped shaking and started breathing normally. Without a word, he soaped up his huge palms and tenderly lathered Mulder from neck to toe, then rinsed him off with the help of a bath sponge.

"You're all done, Fox," he said softly.

A puzzled frown appeared on Mulder's sex-sated face. "What do you mean?"

Impulsively, Skinner kissed his forehead. "I mean you can get out now. Dry off and get dressed for breakfast."

"But--but what about you?" He glanced down at Skinner's engorged cock.

"I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Then I'm staying, too."

"Fox--"

"Shut up!"

Before Skinner could say another word, Mulder captured his mouth again and plundered it with his tongue. But what almost stopped the older man's heart was the fact that Mulder had cupped his genitals in his hands and was touching them like a blind man reading braille pornography.

Skinner's pulse rate soared impossibly higher when Mulder knelt before him and started kissing his cock and balls. As he gained confidence, the kissing turned to licking and sucking.

Looking down at the top of Mulder's head, Skinner was sure he was dreaming. But just in case he wasn't, he pulled himself out of Mulder's mouth a split second before he came. The younger man threw his arms around Skinner's waist and trapped the dancing cock between his upper chest and Skinner's middle, gasping as his skin was flooded with semen.

The older man leaned against the tile wall and stared dumbly as Mulder cleaned them both off. "Why?" he finally asked.

Mulder kissed his cheek. "Can't let you have all the fun. But next time--"

"Next time?!?"

"--I'm not going to let you pull out...Walter."

Skinner felt like weeping. Instead, he pulled Mulder in for a hug that lasted until the water turned icy cold.

But Mulder stopped him from stepping out of the shower. "I think you're forgetting something..."

Skinner followed his gaze to the soap dish. Ah, the ring! He almost ruined his macho reputation by getting down on one knee, but came to his senses at the last second and slipped it back onto Mulder's finger without much ado.

Mulder was delighted. "Can we get you one of these?"

He grinned like a fool. "I love you, Fox."

"I know."

Act VI, Scene VI

They ate breakfast in their bathrobes. And talked. And touched each other often.

"Walter," Mulder asked, lighting up Skinner's face by using his first name again, "do you think this, you know, marriage, was planned from the beginning?"

He stroked his thumb along the back of Mulder's hand and barked out a brief laugh. "With our backgrounds? I don't think so."

"Then why do you think He let it happen?"

Brown eyes met hazel ones and time stopped for just a nanosecond. "He might be able to control what we do, but He can't control what we feel." He brought the hand he was holding to his lips. "And I'm sorry I pulled the caveman act on you, but I was worried that if I didn't do something, He'd reunite me with Sharon or fix me up with Scully. And God only knows what plans He had for you."

Mulder got up from where he was sitting and plunked himself down in Skinner's lap, removing his glasses and laying them on the table. "Please, I'm the one who should be apologizing. Saying all those awful things to you, threatening you..." He kissed the closed eyelids, the adorable boxer's nose, the strong chin. "Let's go back to bed so I can make it up to you..."

As their mouths came together, they heard a muffled beeping.

"What the hell is that?"

"Oh, shit!" Skinner jumped up, nearly knocking Mulder to the floor, and hobbled into the living room. He grabbed the corner of a framed print and pulled it back to reveal a wall safe, which he unlocked with lightning speed. He thrust a hand in and pulled out a chirping cell phone.

"Skinner."

Mulder watched from the kitchen doorway, silently cursing the caller's timing. When the conversation ended, he put his arms around his lover's shoulders. "Who was that?"

"Scully's mother. Your partner's getting married tonight, and since you're the best man, we have to be there."

The hazel eyes blinked. "Wow! That was fast! Who's the lucky guy?"

"Agent Pendrell."

"Pendrell? I thought it would've been that buck-toothed sheriff from Texas."

Skinner snickered. "Scully marry a vampire? Not exactly her style. More like yours." He'd heard about Kristen.

"Oh, yeah?" The snicker transformed into a belly laugh when Mulder gave Skinner a love bite on the neck.

"Fox. Fox!" He gently pried the younger man off him. "If we want to make the ceremony on time, we've got to leave now."

Mulder pouted prettily. "But Walter! We haven't consummated our marriage yet!"

//Mustn't weaken. Must resist.//

Skinner thumbed the full lower lip. "If that's what you really want, Fox, we'll have plenty of time for that later."

"Of course that's what I want! And I want it now--"

The AD rolled his eyes and sighed. Some things never changed.

"--but if you say later, then later it is."

"Fox! Are you--are you giving in without an argument?"

Mulder started toward the bedroom to pack. "Not giving in. Compromising. Isn't that what married people do?"

Skinner simply shook his head in wonder. This was the biggest X-File of them all.

"Of course, I expect you to do something for me, Walter."

//Uh-oh...//

"Would you wear your Dress Blues again? I'll appreciate you in them more this time."

If this was Fox Mulder's idea of give and take, Walter Skinner was going to be the happiest married man on earth.

Act VII, Scene I

The wedding of FBI Agents Scully and Pendrell took place in a quaint little church.

As he stood at the altar waiting for his partner to be escorted down the aisle by her parents, Mulder beamed at Skinner as he sat in the second pew on the bride's side. The women were also having a difficult time keeping their eyes off him. Yes, indeed, there was something about a man in uniform...

"You're gorgeous," Mulder mouthed to him.

"So are you," Skinner mouthed back. Mulder was wearing a black tux with a silk garnet tie and cummerbund to match the bridesmaids' dresses, and looked more handsome now than he had on his own wedding day. Of course, the fact that he was deliriously happy this time had a lot to do with it.

Act VIII, Scene I

At the reception, which was held at a luxury hotel down the block from the church, all heads turned when Mulder and Skinner entered the banquet hall hand in hand.

And chins started wagging when Skinner tried to hug and kiss Mulder in the receiving line.

"Walter!" Mulder laughed nervously. "Not here, okay?"

"Yeah, Sir!" Scully scolded. "The bride's supposed to get all the attention, not the best man and his husband!" But she said it with a sparkle in her eye.

There was another pair of newlyweds at the reception: Alex Krycek and Marita Covarrubias. They'd eloped the day after Mulder and Skinner's farce of a ceremony, unable to face another day of UST.

Unlike the last wedding reception they'd all attended, this one was quite respectable. No one got drunk--well, no one except for Frohike, for obvious reasons--and everyone was polite to one another.

Mind you, there were a few snorts when Mulder and Skinner walked onto the dance floor, but that was from the male guests, which was to be expected. The women, on the other hand, sighed and said, "Awwww" a lot. The dashing agent and his equally splendid mate made a spectacular-looking couple.

Late in the evening, the women went off with Mulder to an adjoining room to try to pry the details of his honeymoon out of him. Skinner stayed back with the rest of the men, sipping brandy and trading war stories.

Inevitably, the talk turned to the topic of his future with Mulder.

"Has he really settled down?" sneered Bill Scully, Jr., who still hated his sister's partner with a passion. "Do you really think he'll stay with you?"

"Yes, I do," Skinner said confidently.

"You're dreaming, man!" smirked X. "He's arrogant and irresponsible and reckless. Not to mention shamelessly irreverent."

"You're wrong." The former Marine was getting sick and tired of all the Mulder-bashing. "I'm certain that Fox is more loving and considerate than any of *your* wives."

"Prove it!" ordered Krycek.

"Yeah! Put your money where your mouth is!" added Pendrell.

"All right," Skinner said. He called a busboy over and handed him a 20. "Son, go next door and tell Ms. Covarrubias that her husband requests her immediate presence."

The boy, who's name was Chris, pocketed the bill and ran off while Krycek and Pendrell exchanged knowing looks.

A few minutes later, Chris rushed back into the banquet hall. Alone.

"Where's my wife?" demanded Krycek.

Chris gulped. "She said she was busy and cannot come."

The other men burst into laughter. The more Krycek scowled at them, the more they snickered.

Skinner gave the boy another 20. "Go back and tell Ms. Scully that her husband wants to see her right away."

As Chris dashed off, Pendrell drank his brandy calmly. "She'll be here," he told his friends. "Don't you worry."

But, once again, Chris returned alone.

"Are you sure you told her what you were supposed to?" Pendrell asked desperately.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. She said she too is busy and, I quote, *will* not come.'"

That brought on another round of hooting and howling. But Skinner just sat there, expressionless.

"Okay, you smug bastard," Krycek spit. "Your turn." He called Chris over and gave him a 50. "Here, kid. Go find Fox Mulder and tell him that AD Skinner *demands* he get his sorry ass in here *now*."

The men chuckled over the busboy's useless quest.

But the chuckling stopped when Mulder walked into the room and presented himself to Skinner.

"Yes, Walter? You wanted to see me?"

Skinner's eyes were filled with love and pride. "Where are Dana and Marita?"

"In the other room."

"Go get them please."

With a nod and a gentle smile, Mulder left the hushed room.

He returned a few mintues later with Scully and Covarrubias in tow.

"You're hurting my arm, Mulder!" Scully yelled.

"Let go of me, you spooky little creep!" Marita sputtered.

Ignoring their protests, Mulder deposited them at their husbands' chairs, then stood before Skinner. "Anything else you'd like me to do, Walter?"

Skinner stood, adjusting his white sash. "Yes, there is. Kiss me, Fox."

"Right here? Right now?"

"Uh-huh."

Without another moment's hesitation, Mulder stepped into the circle of Skinner's arms and kissed him. Thoroughly.

When the kiss ended, Skinner smiled at his man. "I got us a room. Shall we?"

"God, yes!"

To the wonder of everyone present, Skinner scooped Mulder up in his arms and carried him toward the exit. Just as they reached it, Mulder playfully snatched the white cap off Skinner's head and placed it on his own, setting it at a jaunty angle.

"I love you, Walter Skinner."

"I know," Skinner laughed.

With a final kiss, they headed upstairs to begin their honeymoon in earnest.

And that's the story of how the Fox was tamed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

THE END  
May 18, 1999

  
Archived: April 10, 2001 


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